


On Thin Ice

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Femslash, Ice Skating, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:16:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: Morgana wants two things: a perfect triple axel, and Gwen.





	On Thin Ice

Morgana wacks the back of her blade against the pitted wooden bench, forcing her foot into the shoe. Gwen’s already done up her laces, but she’s waiting for Morgana. They’re in one of the locker rooms because the lobby’s filled with families fresh of the ice. It’s seven, now, which means you have to be at least an intermediate level to skate. This will be Morgana’s third time on the ice today—6 AM with Morgause, freeskate at noon, and now. If it weren’t for Gwen, Morgana thinks she could really come to hate the rink.

The air outside the locker room smells like ice and foam, and the ice is white and smooth. The zamboni is just finishing up, spitting out water that freezes when it hits the ice. When it backs into its garage, Morgana and Gwen snap off their skate guards and hang them off the plexiglass that surrounds half the rink. Miraculously, they’re the only ones here; not even Vivian has shown up yet. They skate a few laps to warm up, and Morgana feels the wind carving the space between her skates, feels it curve around her, and this, she thinks, is the closest anyone can come to flying on earth.

They do their stretches together, clunk one skate up onto the short wall, then the other, pull their skates behind them by the blade, raise their legs into spirals. Years of ballet to complement the skating have made them graceful; years of gymnastics have made them extremely flexible. Like their blades, they have been sharpened and prepared.

“Watch this,” says Gwen, and she goes off into her double axel. She floats in the air like an angel, like a superhero, her dark curls lifting when she lands. Morgana does her own double axel, adds a double mohawk and tries to do a second double axel but under-rotates so it ends up being a single, which is better than a single and a bit because that’s not worth anything.

“That was brilliant,” Gwen says sarcastically, but she’s smiling, and Morgana feels that happy glow she always gets when Gwen smiles at her.

“Not as brilliant as my triple,” Morgana replies, and Gwen raises her eyebrows, knowing Morgana still hasn’t landed it off the harness. It’s not strength holding her back, but fear, and Morgana hates fear, fear is your worse enemy, and she wants to land that triple so, so badly. Gwen’s managed to land the triple without the harness, but only once, and Morgana wasn’t even there, so who knew if it really happened (except the whole rink was thrilled and buzzing with the news the day it happened, and they should be, because two women who can land triples coming from the same small rink is so statistically improbable that they’ve basically won the lottery).

After jumps, they do their spins; Gwen’s known for her layback, and Morgana holds her breath while watching it, filled with Gwen’s joy as she spins within an invisible circle of centripedal force. Morgana does a camel-sit, and by then the rink’s a bit more crowded. Vivian’s finally shown up, and she’s wearing a new blue skating dress and looking lovely. She’s talented, but she’s no Gwen or Morgana. They watch her work on her double salchow, and she probably can feel their eyes on her because she’s nervous and keeps under-rotating.

“Poor girl,” Morgana says, not really meaning it. Gwen snorts.

“Come on,” she says, “I want to see your figures.”

 

After free-skate, Morgana has a half-hour reserved on the ice to run through her programmes with Morgause, her sister-turned-coach, and Gwen sits on the bleachers to watch. Morgana runs through her short programme first and she hopes Morgause won’t make her do the long one, but Morgause is Morgause, and so Gwen puts Tchaikovsky into the CD player and Morgana forces herself through the long one, too. When it’s done, she’s sweating, her hair’s plastered to her face, and her breath comes out in short pants.

It’s ten when they leave the rink, and Morgause left ages ago, so Gwen offers Morgana a ride. Gwen drives a hybrid because of course she does, and it’s one of the things Morgana loves about Gwen. She always recycles, doesn’t eat meat, and donates to charity whenever she can. And she always lets Morgana pick the channel; Morgana turns it to rock and they fly down the motorway to heavy percussion.

Morgana doesn’t want to go home yet, so Gwen takes her to the diner, and they share a plate of Belgian waffles with plenty of whipped cream and strawberries. “Today was good,” Morgana says, and Gwen agrees.

“Your programme was terrible, though,” she says. Morgana grins and tosses a strawberry at Gwen.

“You wish you could be me,” Morgana says, and Gwen says, “If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to be your friend,” and they smile stupidly at each other.

“My dad’s not home,” Gwen says when they get back to the car, so they drive to her flat and roll joints in the kitchen. It’s terrible for their lungs so they try not to do it often, but tonight feels like a weed kind of night. They sit cross-legged on Gwen’s bed and try to play Spit, but they’re both too high to remember what Spit actually is, so they switch to Go Fish, except Morgana keeps forgetting what card Gwen’s asked for, so they turn on the telly and watch reruns of The Simpsons and laugh until they cry.

“It’s getting late,” Morgana says when the high starts to wear off, and Gwen says, “I’m not driving you back tonight, you’d better text your dad and tell him you’re sleeping over.” After Morgana texts him, they make giant bowls of ice-cream with Oreos crushed in and have an unofficial race to see who can finish first because everything’s a competition with them, and Morgana loves Gwen.

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone else?” says Gwen, when they’re both ready for bed and snuggled underneath her covers. Morgana turns the wall and thinks, I love you I love you I love you, but she’s too afraid, and Morgana’s never afraid, except when it comes to triple axels and Gwen.

“I don’t have any secrets,” she finally says, and Gwen laughs and strokes her fingers through Morgana’s hair, and a tingle goes up and down Morgana’s spine and she closes her eyes but the tears leak out anyway. She doesn’t mean to start sobbing, but then she is, sobbing into her folded arms as Gwen rubs her back and murmers soothing things.

“Do you want me to guess what’s wrong?” says Gwen, and Morgana shrugs as best she can lying on her front. “Okay, let’s see,” and her hand keeps going up and down Morgana’s back. “You’ve landed your triple axel off the harness and didn’t tell me because you wanted an edge?” Morgana shakes her head, smearing tears into the fitted sheet.

“Hmm,” says Gwen. “You’re a sleeper agent whose finally been activated and your mission is to kill me.”

Morgana laughs a bit at this one, a shaky, after-crying sort of laugh. “No,” she mumbles. “You’re terrible at this game.”

“Do you want me to be good at this game?” says Gwen, and Morgana sits up a bit and looks at Gwen. Gwen looks serious, deadly serious, and Morgana isn’t sure what to say because either way this goes, nothing will ever be the same, but _fear is your worst enemy_ , so she nods and says, “Go for it.”

Gwen takes a deep breath, pulls her shoulders back. “You’re gay.” And that’s so close, so close, but it’s not quite there, and Morgana’s not sure whether to keep going or accept this victory. She doesn’t say anything, and Gwen keeps talking. “I’ve known for ages, Morgana. You never talk about boys, and whenever we watch movies you always point out the pretty girls. Also, my gaydar’s pretty on point being, you know. Gay myself.”

Now Morgana’s sitting all the way up and her heart is doing jump combos. “You’re gay, too?”

Gwen traces Morgana’s cheek with a fingers and smiles so sweetly. “That’s not all.”

“Really?” says Morgana.

“Yes,” says Gwen, and then they have their first kiss.

 

(When they walk into the rink the next day with their fingers laced together, nobody’s surprised.)


End file.
